Chapter 4: Sunlight and Aisha

For the first time in five years, dem carry me commot from the dark cell. As sun first touch my skin, I nearly blind. My body shake, fear grip me like masquerade dey chase me for night. The noise, the brightness—all confuse me. I dey shout, dey run small before Musa grip me.

As sun touch my body, I panic like rat, dey scream dey run. My skin dey pepper, be like say I dey burn. The world too big, my legs too weak. I fit hear people laugh for background.

Musa Okoye drag me enter big bungalow. The carpet soft under my bare foot, but I no fit appreciate. Everywhere smell of perfume, fried oil, and cigarette. Generator hum dey background, small jollof rice aroma for the air.

For the big sofa, some women dey sit, makeup full face. Dem dey gossip, dey paint toenails. Laughter loud, na only me no fit join.

"Oga Musa..." Dem stand greet am. One waka come kiss am. Her voice high-pitch, like market woman. She look me up and down, eye dey talk say I be nobody.

Right for my front, Musa Okoye kiss her back, long kiss. My heart just break again. Once upon a time, na me and am dey share that kind affection.

"Aisha, carry her go upstairs bath. Clean her well," e tell the woman.

Aisha roll eye, but e no get choice. Aisha look me one kind. "Follow me, yeye woman."

She hiss, drag me by hand like small pikin wey no get home training. For her face, I see pity and anger join.

She and other women scrub me from head to toe that afternoon, dey remove dirt and lice. Dem pour hot water wey nearly peel my skin—my body jump like fish for frying pan. Even as pain dey catch me, I close eye, dey thank God say at least I dey see woman face.

Hot water wash my lean body. My ribs outside, like person wey dry for sun. Every touch, every scrub dey remind me of the world I miss. The hot water feel like blessing and punishment together.

Five years don waka. That fine, sharp policewoman Ngozi don turn to ghost. I fit see my bones for mirror. My cheeks hollow, eyes sunk. I dey imagine how Tunde go look me if e see me.

Aisha dey comb my hair, her voice soft. "Abeg, no use your wahala spoil my own day o. Oga Musa no be who e be before. If you wan live, just behave."

Her hand gentle, like person wey sabi suffering. Maybe she dey pass her own wahala too. She whisper, "Sometimes to survive for this place, you go hide your own spirit."

"Aisha, you fit go," Musa Okoye appear for door. Him shadow big for wall. I hear small authority for his voice, like local chairman.

Aisha look me warning, then waka. Her eyes warn me—'no try rubbish.' She lock door, give Musa space.

Musa Okoye stand for my back, dey look my reflection for mirror. E long fingers touch my temple, neck, collarbone, enter my shirt, dey go down. E breathe heavy. I dey look e eyes for mirror, but I no blink.

I frown, my disgust no fit hide. I hiss small, shift from e hand. My stomach dey turn. E stop. E no push further. For one second, e just dey look me, like e dey see old memory.

Suddenly, e hold my hair, force my head up. E grip tight, neck pain me. I no fight—no strength. "See as you be—who go wan see you naked?" e hiss. E voice full of spite. But inside, I see small pain, like e dey talk to himself.

"Daddy!" Small girl voice sound for door. Hope spring for my chest. The voice soft, sweet—music for sorrow.

Musa Okoye pause, release my hair. E clear throat, try hide anger. E turn, face door.

"Daddy, you finally bring Mummy out!" The small girl run come, dey look my face. "Mummy fine, just too thin. Mummy suppose chop more."

Her innocence pure. She dey smile, eyes bright like morning sun. I nearly break down cry. I look her, eyes dey water. For the first time, I dey see myself for her face—nose, mouth, dimple. My heart dey beat like drum for festival. Na my pikin be this? True true?

I wan touch her cheek, but my hand shake. I dey fear to believe.

"Zainab, tonight Daddy go carry you and Mummy go chop suya, you hear?" Musa Okoye talk. The way e talk 'suya' na as if na gift wey fit heal wound. Zainab nod like say e don win lottery.

"Yay!" Zainab jump, dey laugh. Her laughter fill the whole house, drive small darkness from my mind.

I no know how, for this evil place, she still pure and happy. For road to mama put, she just dey laugh, dey look everything for window like magic.

As car dey move, she dey point okada, hawker, even mad man. I dey watch her, dey wonder how she fit shine for all this suffering.

Musa Okoye dey talk to her soft, no be the wicked man I sabi. E voice gentle, like father wey no fit harm fly. I dey confused—who be this man?

As I dey look the papa and pikin, my mind travel go more than twenty years back. Flash of memory—how life dey twist, how good dey turn bad, how love dey turn to war.

That year, I be five.